The Soothsayer
by Coutelier
Summary: A story in three parts.  Imoen's life is threatened by a passing mystic, and so our heroes must pull together to help her to avoid fate.
1. Chapter 1

**The Soothsayer**

**Part One **

Late in the evening and the party was in full swing. It had been a bad year for the farmers, so Nalia had arranged this event to take place in her castle, inviting everyone from every home on her lands to come and just to forget their worries for a short time. It seemed to be working. After feasting they had cleared the tables from the hall, the bards played something upbeat and everyone was up dancing and smiling, a long way from the hard ships they endured every other day. It brought a genuine smile to the young noblewoman's face.

Of course, there was the 'Tarant' factor… at her invitation he had arrived at her keep four days ago with his party. As protector of these lands it was appropriate that he be there for this. On the other hand, she more than a little worried about what kind of image he would project to the people or whether he would make any effort to be friendly at all. The answer was no. When Nalia asked him if he planned to attend, his answer was an emphatic no. When asked why, he said:

"Let's see… because everything your cook does tastes like manure and because you're one of the most boring people I've ever met."

"Okay, fair enough," she answered, before replaying his words in her head and actually hearing them this time. "What do you mean 'boring'? How am I boring?"

"I knew you'd ask that," the half elf shook his head and ran a hand wearily through his thick brown hair.

"I'm not boring! Would a boring person be having a party?! Boring people would want to stay in their rooms… like you. So what do you say to that?" 

"Hm? Sorry… I didn't hear what you asked. The second you started talking I started falling asleep."

"Jaheira? Do you think I'm boring?"

"Well… I…" One got the impression that the druid had really wanted to stay out of it. 

"What? That question stumps you? You? You always have something to say… I don't believe this. So if you all think I'm so boring then why'd you come?"

"We really liked the coach you sent for us?" The red haired girl, Imoen, suggested sheepishly.

"Right… so I'm less interesting than a coach…"

"And horses…"

"Thanks. But, I've got to be more interesting than Valygar, right? He never even says anything," Nalia indicated to the dark skinned ranger, who stared ahead impassively. Maybe he'd fallen asleep as well.

"That's what makes him interesting. You look at him and wonder 'Is he thinking what everyone else would say?'"

"I-I don't think you're boring ma'am," said the bashful Aerie. With all the adventurers and Nalia and her retinue, there had to be twelve people in the room so it was quite a surprise to hear the Avariel speak.

"Thank you, Aerie. You're very kind," the noblewoman said encouragingly.

"Aerie thinks everything is interesting," Tarant said, unfortunately. "She thinks the manufacture of paper is interesting. She was asking all kinds of questions about it the other day."

"B-but… y-you're more interesting to me than paper, ma'am…" it was also surprising to learn that Aerie actually had a very dry sense of humour.

Anyway, that had been this morning. Right now, the party had gone ahead without Tarant and Nalia hoped it would be enough for the people to know that he was at least in the vicinity. The others all turned up and were on the whole very nice. The noblewoman didn't understand why people like Aerie or Imoen or Jaheira still travelled with that man. Well, Imoen did because she was his sister, but the others? To Nalia, Tarant just seemed like one of those bullies that were inexplicably popular.

But Jaheira and Valygar had shown up at the event, even though the druid and the ranger clearly weren't very comfortable in such an environment. Val managed to find a secluded spot on the outskirts of all the fun, but Jaheira did an admirable job of mingling with the crowd. She was aloof and haughty, as always, but still related far better to the common folk than most nobles would. In the meantime, Edwin was there just to eat. Some peasants made an effort to talk to him but they soon realised what folly that was.

No one however was more uncomfortable than Aerie. Nalia had first met the elf when she was just starting out, and the blonde hadn't really changed that much although she looked a lot healthier now. Her skinny frame had filled out a little and she was becoming a very attractive young woman, which unfortunately for Aerie meant it was becoming much harder not to draw attention to herself. The blonde stayed very close to her friend, Imoen, and tried very hard to avoid meeting the eyes of any of the young men. Nalia hated making the analogy, but it did seem rather like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. Aerie seemed to think that if she couldn't see anyone then no one could see her. 

"You're going?" Tarant said when the Avariel had earlier let it slip that she planned to attend the function tonight. "But you hate parties Aerie. You're even less outgoing than Edwin's libido."

"It's f-funny you should say that sir," the blonde elf giggled nervously, "be-because Imoen said that was precisely the reason that I needed to go."

Indeed, where it left up to her then Aerie would likely have stayed in her room as well reading a very long book about how books are made. She was only here because she wanted to please Imoen. Not that she hadn't needed some convincing…

"I just… I worry about you Aerie," Imoen had said, uncharacteristically serious.

"Why?" The blonde asked.

"Because… you don't really talk to anyone. Apart from me and a few other people. You spend all your free time reading books."

"What's wrong with that? I-I like reading…"

"There's nothing 'wrong' with it. I'm sure you're learning a lot. It's just you're not learning how to make friends. You can't learn that from a book, because it's more than just knowing the right words. It's… about having the right attitude. You know, like looking at people when you're talking to them. If I can't see you I can't relate to you…" 

"You…" Aerie suddenly made a conscious effort to look away from her own feet, "You make it sound like casting a spell…" 

"Kind of… see, I'm with you every day so I get to see what a kind and intelligent person you really are. But it's not the first impression you give anyone… they don't get to see the real you."

"I don't understand… t-they should see the real me? But… you've basically been saying that I should act in front of everyone and pretend to be someone I'm not so that they'll like me."

"That's not what I'm saying… I'm saying you should stop being afraid of people. You seem to think that everyone else is better than you. But, really, they're not. Look at Jaheira… she's not really as smart as you but she's so proud and confident that people will listen to whatever she has to say." 

"Sh-she can also knock people's heads off…"

"This is true. But you can still be confident even though you're not scary. Look, what worries me is that someday everyone you know will have grown old or will have passed on and you'll still be the same as you are now and… you'll just be so lonely. And you're the last person who deserves to be lonely."

On that, a sombre silence fell over the two for several minutes, until it was finally broken by Aerie.

"I-if I go," said the Avariel, "W-will you promise to never again be this depressing? Because it doesn't suit you."

And so, Aerie was at the party even though she hated it and clearly wanted to get out for some air. She endured the agony to try and put Imoen at ease. Nalia envied the deep friendship they clearly had. She just didn't have friends like that. There was Clara, the Lady's Maid, whom Nalia often confided in and shared things with. On the other hand, Nalia was paying her to do just that. 

But Nalia had a mission to change Amn and had placed it above every other concern. She was now devoted to it, even if on a human level she sometimes felt… well often felt… unfulfilled.

As more hours passed, a girl from the village managed to entice Valygar out of his corner, and even Aerie looked as if she was starting to enjoy the attention she was getting and that it actually didn't make her feel like a sideshow. Alas, all good things had to come to an end and eventually it became time for everyone to leave. Nalia rose from her chair at the end of the hall to propose a final toast. 

"I'll try not to bore everyone," she began, but could see she was boring people already. They just wanted to get into their drinks. "I'll keep it short then. Look, we've all had a rough time of late, but I know the worst is behind us. I want you to know that whatever happens, I will do everything within my power to make sure that no one on these lands ever goes hungry…"

"She does go on a bit doesn't she?" A farmer said.

"Yes… get on with it!" Called another.

"Right," the young noblewoman was slightly flustered, "My toast then… to our future!"

It was the moment she raised her glass that things really 'kicked off' as it were. There hadn't been any storm outside as far as anyone, but now they were interrupted by the boom of thunder. A chilly gust blew the great doors wide open and leaves danced in. Sensing this may be something supernatural, everyone in the hall screamed and ran to the far end. Only the adventurers – Aerie, Imoen, Jaheira, Minsc and Valygar – held their ground. Edwin was already under the table. Mist rolled in and crawled across the entire floor. And then a figure emerged from it.

Actually, it was more like a walking pile of rags. One could only assume that buried under it was a person of slight build, but indeterminate gender. It walked hunched like an old beggar, using a crooked staff to support itself. It seemed to take a long time for the figure to reach the centre of the hall, whereupon the staff cracked the ground sharply and the great doors swung themselves shut.

Then silence. As Lady of the lands, it seemed it fell onto Nalia to break the ice.

"Um," the noblewoman straightened her frock, "Can… can we help you?"

"No, no," the pile of rags answered. It had a high yet somehow gravelly voice, which didn't help at all to determine whether the speaker was male or female. "I'm just passing through."

"Right… and, you are?"

"Oh, I could never reveal my true name to you. Such things are a closely guarded secret amongst my kind, you understand?"

"Not really…"

"No? Oh, but… Aerie does..."

All eyes suddenly turned to the Avariel for an explanation. She slowly rose her head, as if she felt the pressure of everyone's gaze upon her.

"The… t-the power of a name," the blonde elf said just loud enough that everyone could hear, "um… S-some witches think that revealing their craft name can give people power over them…"

"A witch then," Jaheira interrupted and stepped forward, "So then, tell us your birth name."

"Alas, this I cannot tell you either," the witch, or possibly warlock, seemed to shrug. "For it was so long ago since I heard it last that I have simply forgotten. In my travels people call me soothsayer, or seer, or oracle."

"You're a fortune teller," the druid snorted. It took more than a few titles to impress her, even if one of those titles was Lord High Emperor Of The Entire Multiverse. 

"No," the rag person answered succinctly, "those gypsy women tell you only what you want to hear… I tell you the truth exactly as I see it. And, I'm afraid, I see very little fortune in your future Jaheira…"

"So you know our names? This is hardly enough to convince me you can actually see the future. Even the Gods do not always know what will happen tomorrow."

"Not just the future, but the past and the present as well. I see all the threads of fate… I see… an elven woman, but one who has feathered wings?"

"W-who is she?" If it was what the newcomer wanted, she certainly in piquing Aerie's interest.

"I do not know… but I see her standing outside a room that has been empty for so long, inside a home that has not heard the sound of laughter in decades. Yet each day she steps outside and watches the horizon, waiting for her lost one to return."

"Mo-momma? Is… is she," Aerie hurried towards to seer, ready to bombard her with all kinds of questions about her home and whether her family were okay… but the Avariel caught the eyes of her friends who were with her right now. Everyone hoped for her sake that it was true, that this person really did have visions and could provide Aerie with some of the answers she desperately needed, but… "But… there are l-lots of ways you could have found out about me."

"Cynical lot, aren't you? Perhaps you'd like to give me a test then?" 

"Sure," Imoen reached into her purse, "Let's flip a coin or something… heads or tails?"

"Heads," the rags answered immediately. Imoen promptly flipped and looked down at the coin resting on her arm.

"Yeah, well… you could have just been lucky that time. Go again… heads or tails?"

"Neither," the rags said, again with no hesitation.

"What?" Imoen giggled at the absurd response. "The coin only has two sides you know…"

"Flip it, and see."

"Alright," the red haired girl shrugged and flipped the coin high into air. As it was coming down, she slipped in a puddle of wine and didn't catch it. The crowd gasped in astonishment and awe as the coin landed on its side, lodged between two floorboards. "Okay… so that's impressive."

"So maybe it is true…" Aerie whispered softly.

"I do have some serious business," the Oracle said out loud. The audience were now fully focused on him or her or it. "You see… before the sun rises tomorrow, there is one among you that will be dead."

"Dead?" Everyone gasped. 

"Dead."

"PleasebeEdwinPleasebeEdwinPleasebeEdwin," Imoen shut her eyes and chanted.

"It's you," Imoen opened her eyes. The witch or soothsayer or whatever you wanted to call it was pointing its staff at her.

"Me?"

"You." 

"Y-you had better not be threatening my friend!" Aerie said with unusual force, taking a few steps around Imoen so that little elf was standing between the red head and the prophet.

"I never threaten anyone. Merely tell them what I see."

"It's alright, Aerie," Imoen said softly. She placed a hand on the Avariel's shoulder and gently pulled her back. "Can… can you tell me how?"

"I see a chest… a black chest with a golden lock. You open it and then… you die," the Soothsayer shrugged. "This is all I can tell you."

"I'm killed by a chest? That's kind of not how I wanted to go…"

"It is never about what you want or what you deserve… death just, is." 

"But… I can stop it, right? I'll stay in my room all night… I won't go near any chests…"

"It matters not what you do… you cannot avoid your fate."

"Then… why'd you bother to tell me about it? You could have let me live a few more hours in ignorant bliss!"

"So that you will have time to prepare… to say farewell to your friends, to cleanse your soul," the Soothsayer slowly made its way back towards the great doors of the hall, causing them to open with a quick staff gesture. "Goodbye, Imoen from Candlekeep."

A shocked silence from everyone as the sayer left, and Imoen watched as the doors shut in front of her. Aerie put an arm around her friend. The red head put on a brave face for a few moments, but then suddenly the tears flowed freely and her lip started to visibly quiver. The red head turned and ran… she ran straight to the one person she believed could protect her, because despite all his faults he had always protected her from everything.

"Unless you want those arms broken you had better stop hugging me," Tarant really didn't like being woken up like this. He didn't like being woken up at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Soothsayer**

**Part Two **

Tarant had been having the most wonderful dream. He'd been walking through the streets of Athkatla, surrounded by the usual several million people who went to and fro about their business each day like self-important sheep, labouring for hours each day so that they can purchase a rubber door knocker because Mister Delainy just got one and apparently they're all the rage in Neverwinter. Sort of smug, self satisfied Whelks that wore the same clothes and spoke the same way yet still cherished their uniform individuality.

Anyway, in Tarant's dream, the sky was filled with the light of a thousand suns and every last one of them turned into dust. It was beautiful. Every single stupid, boring and annoying person done away with just like that, leaving behind only him and a few other survivors who roamed the post apocalyptic wasteland knowing absolute peace and freedom… and Aerie and Jaheira were holding spears and wearing leather bikini's and were about to wrestle over who would be repopulating the planet first, when Imoen burst in and woke him up. Soon, almost everyone had followed her inside, apart from Edwin. Luckily he'd fallen asleep in a chair with his clothes still on. Still, it wasn't on them all inviting themselves in like that.

However, he found it hard to actually stay angry at her for long, even though she persisted in making him feel most uncomfortable by putting her arms around him and sobbing all down his sleeve whilst explaining that she was destined to be dead by morning.

Tarant felt that maybe he should do something… well, he had already decided he was going to do something, what he meant was to do something right now like pat her on the back and say 'there, there… It's going to be all right'. Years ago, in Candlekeep, she'd come to him like this many times, because the other children had been shouting at her or she'd fallen out of a tree and banged her knee, and those were exactly the kind of things he might have said then. And then he would have broken branches off the tree in question until she felt better. But the boy he was then had been left behind in the keep… she was a grown woman now and he had been witness to and the cause of so much death that 'there, there… It's going to be all right,' somehow didn't feel appropriate. In the end he settled for:

"Don't be bloody ridiculous. You're not going to die. I wish you were, but I'm afraid I'll have to put up with you for a long time yet."

"B-but the coin!" Imoen looked up with red eyes, "the Soothsayer knew exactly how it would land…"

"It was a trick, obviously. They used magic to control how the coin would fall… kind of stuff you see all the time in the Circus. Aerie will tell you."

"W-well," the Avariel cleared her throat with one of the tiniest coughs he'd ever heard. She wasn't wearing a leather bikini but a dress that she must have borrowed from Nalia for the party. Tarant wasn't sure what Aerie spent her share of the loot on but very little of it was on clothing. Probably spell books and novels and encyclopaedias and sketch books and really big paper for painting on… she was one of the paper industries best customers, along with the entire country of Thay.

"I suppose th-there are ways the coin could have been faked," the blonde elf went on, "But… I-I don't think it was done with magic."

"Right," Imoen interrupted, "There was a witch and three mages in the room. If any magic had been used then at least one of us should have felt something."

Tarant didn't know how exactly spell casters could sense when other magic was being used nearby. He'd asked about it once, and Edwin had told him that it was far too difficult to explain in words that were less than three syllables, so he asked Imoen, who told him to ask Aerie, who suggested that magic was like a stream that flowed through everything and any spell or magical device caused ripples. But you couldn't actually see the ripples or the stream so Tarant had left feeling that no one had really answered his question. In any case, he looked at Aerie now, using his eyebrow to tell her that she'd better start being more helpful and he didn't care if she had to lie to be so.

"There are other ways besides magic," she said, "And I… I hope no one thinks it too presumptuous of me, b-but I asked Major Domo to see to it that no one touches anything in the hall or outside it, s-so that we can search for clues."

"Exactly what I would have suggested," Jaheira nodded.

"Good thinking," Tarant commended the druid for her forethought.

"I know," she answered.

"And what about this chest? Black with a golden lock wasn't it?"

"I don't know of anything like that here," Nalia interjected, "But not even I know the exact contents of every room in the castle. There are still several rooms that haven't even been opened since… since the trolls. Anyway, I've told the staff to begin searching at once."

"Good. Well done."

"Well, actually, it was Aerie's idea…"

"Who?" Tarant scratched his head then shook it. "Well never mind about that… we need to find out more about this Soothsayer."

"I suppose I could send runners to nearby towns and villages, see if they can find out were the Soothsayer came from."

"Any of your runners have wings?" Imoen crashed onto a sofa and even she forgot that Aerie was in the room. Fortunately the Avariel didn't appear to have been listening so Imoen went on, picking up a wooden carving of a ship and idly twisting it between her hands as she did so. "Because it's at least a days ride to the next nearest village and back, and I have less than seven hours…"

"You should just stop thinking about it and go to sleep. You'll wake up tomorrow and be fine," Tarant said, "And I'll be sure to remind you of what an idiot you were the night before."

"I-I think that's good advice," Aerie said, "You mustn't dwell on it. If you allow yourself to believe everything the Soothsayer said, t-then the prophecy may become self-fulfilling…"

"Are you saying that I'd kill myself?" Imoen blinked in disbelief.

"Well… n-not deliberately…"

"Well anyway, there's no way I'm going to sleep through this. You heard what the Sayer said… even if I lock myself in here there's no way to avoid my fate. How does that work anyway? I mean there's no chest in here and it's hardly likely to pick the lock and come in here on its own…"

"I-I guess if you really were fated to die and were trying to avoid it, t-then fate would just seek another means to kill you and preserve itself…"

"How?"

"I don't know… m-maybe the ceiling will collapse or a freak gust of wind will carry a log through the window…"

"Great… so, not only am I going to die but I'm a danger to everyone and everything around me too. Thanks for that Aerie."

"It doesn't matter, because it's all bull anyway," Tarant reminded everyone and himself. There was no way Imoen would die. He simply wouldn't allow it… not that he actually liked her of course… and anyway there were millions of young women in the world almost exactly like Imoen, all chatty and giggly and wiping noses on sleeves like any really common person. He was just used to seeing her particular face grinning inanely at him each day. The Soothsayer was obviously nothing of the sort, they just had to figure out how and why they had gone to so much trouble just to frighten Imoen. And, on the off chance that they were telling the truth, he needed to get to the bottom of it before sunrise.

"I'm sure you all know what you need to be doing?" He said to the room. Jaheira nodded, Aerie bowed slightly, and they all hurried off towards the hall once more leaving Tarant alone in the room with his sister. He strapped his sword and its sheath around his waist… he hadn't any enemy to fight, yet, but being prepared made him feel a lot better.

"You really think you can change fate?" The red head said quietly. "Bhaal couldn't avoid his fate…"

"Maybe Aerie's right… maybe prophecies and things only come true because people believe they will. Doesn't matter… we'll soon uncover this Soothsayer as a fraud."

"Maybe," the young thief didn't yet sound convinced. "Did you make this?" Imoen asked of the wooden carving she held.

"Yes."

"You used to be really good at all arty stuff… I mean, you still are, but… you're not as passionate as you used to be, at least you don't show it as much… anyway, you should show it to Aerie."

"I know."

"I mean you should it to her because she's really into art and stuff as well… I'm not saying you should go out with her or anything."

"Good."

"She's my best friend, so I wouldn't wish that on her."

"How considerate."

"If you did go out with someone though, I wish it were with someone nice."

"To be honest," Tarant said with a sigh and sat down next to her. They'd had this same conversation countless times before, but tonight for some reason he felt sentimental and decided to go through it for old time's sake. "I've always suspected that you're the one who wants to 'go out' with Aerie."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… you've never had a boyfriend have you? You've never shown any interest in them, but you do spend a lot of time with her…"

"Oh, I get it. So, because I don't rush out to have sex the instant I hit puberty it means I must be gay? I won't… well, I wasn't going to risk getting involved with someone for a while longer."

"Well, don't be in a hurry to tonight. Because you won't die and then you'll regret it. And I'll find out and have to kill the man in question," he said, knowing there was only one man about who would accept such an offer on such short notice. If all that did happen it would prove the Soothsayer was half right.

"Anyway… I have had boyfriends. Remember Jeremy?"

"You were eight years old… and you dumped him after he gave you a half eaten candy for your birthday..." Not that any of Tarant's had ever ended much better though. The last person he thought he was in love with turned out to be a Werewolf and then got torn to pieces by the rest of her pack so that he could escape.

"Yeah, well… a girl wants to be made a fuss of. That means giving her the whole candy and not just your leftovers. You'll have to learn little things like that if you ever want to have a normal life."

"And what makes you think I want a 'normal' life? Settling down in some home in the country, wife, two kids, going out to work the same spot of land day after day after day… do you really think that's who I am?"

"No, but… you're not really happy the way you are. And you used to be so different… you used to laugh sometimes..."

"People change. That's just life. Besides, I can't settle down. So long as I'm the son of Bhaal I'll have enemies to fight."

"You treat everyone like they're your enemy, but they're really not. You can be nice to people like Aerie, or Jaheira or even Valygar. I'm just saying, since you've so many enemies what's wrong with having some friends?"

"I just… it's not that simple," he said, and saw that Imoen expected him to elaborate. Unfortunately since he couldn't fully explain the reasons to himself he certainly couldn't explain them to her. Sure, there was the fact that almost everyone he cared about seemed to end up dying horribly, and Imoen would probably die tonight if he couldn't stop it. But, he also knew there was more to it than that but he hadn't found the words to explain it. "I just can't."

"Please… Since I might be dead by morning; just try being nice. Just see how it makes you feel, and then come morning you can go back to being as grumpy as you like. Just do this one little thing for me."

"You…" Tarant bit back his tongue. It was no use telling her she wasn't going to die yet again, as they hadn't yet exposed the Soothsayer as a fraud, not definitively. It occurred to him then that if Imoen were to die then he didn't want his last memory of his sister to be of him disappointing her yet again. "Fine, for tonight I will be… nice," he said like it was a strange alien word. "Now let's join the others."

>

"Would you please sign this?" Imoen encountered Edwin as soon as she'd returned to the hall. The farmers had gone home now, but everything else was almost exactly they'd left it. Although a few silver trays were missing. No doubt peasants had taken some, but Imoen suspected that Edwin had also used the opportunity to help himself to some. Placing them in the pockets where they would never be seen again until he removed them. Come to think of it, a few bottles of wine were missing as well… Anyway, now Edwin was waving some sort of document in her face.

"What is it?" Imoen snatched away the parchment. She had no intention of signing anything Edwin gave her without reading it thoroughly first. She once thought about selling her soul to a devil, figuring it didn't really matter since when she died her soul would join that of all the other Bhaalspawn and she would cease to exist, but she decided against it. And Edwin was just as bad as any devil, if not worse. "My last will and testament?"

"I am sure that when you're gone you'll want your possessions to fall into the hands of people who will appreciate them the most…"

"It says I leave everything I own to you… and that I consent to having my body used for magical experiments!"

"It's not as if you'll need it…"

"I don't care, it's my body. I don't want you poking around in it just because I'm not using it."

"(Exactly the kind of wasteful sentiment I'd expect from a grossly ignorant peasant such as her) Ahem… but, think of the progress that could be made from studying you! You're going to die tonight, that's been decided, but your corpse could help save other lives."

"Thanks for the support Eddie… but the answer's still no, I'm not signing this. What would want with all my underwear anyway?"

"Well, since you ask, deservingly or not you have become rather famous up and down the coast here. I am sure I could find some people who would pay large sums for little items of memorabilia…"

"Most of my clothes are still in the laundry room waiting to be washed anyway. Nalia's staff are still a bit overstretched…"

"Oh, they'll be worth more if they haven't been washed. But, since you won't sign I don't suppose it matters," Edwin took his parchment and quill and got lost, leaving Imoen wondering. She decided she had better not do so for long.

"Hey Aerie… kid!" She waved to the Avariel who stood up to greet her. "Whatch'ya doing?"

"Well… I'm looking for clues."

"Like what?"

"Well… a-anything that seems a bit out of place I guess. Anything that might suggest how she did all those tricks…"

"She? You mean the Soothsayer? I was sure it was a fella… but I guess it was hard to tell under all those rags."

"T-that's not really important… is it?"

"Well, it would narrow down who the Soothsayer could be…"

"Uh-huh… t-to only half the population of Faerun?"

"Yeah, alright. No need to be sarcastic… so have you found anything, Little Miss Cleverclogs?"

"No… n-not yet," Aerie hung her head and turned her attention back to the floor, no longer finding any humour anywhere.

"Hey… don't be so sensitive."

"I wasn't… i-it's just, if we don't find anything, then it means…"

"That the Soothsayer might have been telling the truth and I'll be dead by morning. And you'll be lonely," with hindsight, Imoen saw that it had been pretty foolish to have put that thought into Aerie's head. "Look, forget everything I said before. I was wrong to try and force you to do stuff you didn't want to do. Just be yourself and you'll make new friends after I'm gone. I know you will. And the others will still be around."

"It won't be the same… it would be like it was when you were in Spellhold, with Jaheira treating me like a child and everyone else not even knowing I exist until I'm in their way or they want something from me… and all of them making me so nervous that I can hardly breathe. I-I've only felt relaxed since you've been here."

"Aww… now you're just saying that to make me feel special…"

"I-I'm not just saying it… you are…"

For once, Imoen didn't know what to say. Contrary to all reason, Aerie loved her, and Imoen loved the little Avariel too, all in a strictly platonic way of course.

Aerie was like the little sister that Imoen had never wanted, but now that she had she really wanted to be around for her. They were very different in many ways, like Imoen being the playful outgoing type and Aerie being rather quiet and introverted. But they were alike in many more ways, such as their loyalty and their moral ideologies which basically involved just trying your best to be nice to people and not so much of this 'big picture' and 'greater good' stuff favoured by Nalia and Jaheira. Aerie and Imoen both missed their homes too, and their childhoods. But both had come to accept that there was no going back. Even if it were physically possible to go back there, Aerie understood now that Faenya Dail wasn't where she belonged. It probably had never been.

"Really Aerie," Imoen decided to change the subject. Another thing about Aerie was that she was an extremely passionate person. She was the only person Imoen knew who could get genuinely emotional about a tortoise being left on its back. Aerie even cared about Edwin… well, she was the only person who didn't hate the wizard that had actually met him. "What you said before… I thought you believed in fate and destiny and stuff like that…"

"To be honest, I'm never exactly sure what I believe," Aerie admitted, "I once thought that maybe the gods controlled our fate… b-but then I started thinking, if our destinies are already decided, then are evil people really responsible for what they do? And, w-what about chaos and entropy and how if you try to measure something you change the way it behaves…"

"Stop!" Imoen raised her hand in the classic 'stop' sign. Thankfully, Aerie immediately stopped talking. "You… think too much," Imoen sighed, "used to see this happen to a lot of monks in Candlekeep. You start filling your head with too many ideas from books but then you can't contain them and they're running around your head in all directions."

"I'm sorry," Aerie flushed with embarrassment. "But, w-when I thinking about… all of that… I also thought that maybe I'd been taken away from my home and my family because I was meant to help you and Tarant somehow. So you see… t-that's another reason why you can't die. Because… i-if you do, then nothing that's happened to me makes any sense."

"You're a really sweet person Aerie," Imoen decided her friend needed a little hug. "Listen… if I don't make it, then, I'm leaving all my stuff to you."

"A-all of it?"

"Yup… I should probably go and write it down so that it's official, and get a witness so that Edwin doesn't just forge my signature… but it'll all be yours. I mean I know you don't really care much for all the Dwarven drinking songs or the book of lewd limericks, but you can sell stuff like that and give to the money to some temple if you want to," the red head looked over her shoulder and saw that Edwin was still lurking nearby. "I think I'd also like to be cremated."

"D-Don't you want to leave something to your brother?"

"Oh, he hates limericks. And none of my clothes would fit him," Imoen grinned. There was so much she still needed to teach Aerie though, but she had other business to take care of tonight and possibly only a few hours to do it in. She would just have to trust that the Avariel knew enough now that she could learn and adapt on her own. Still, before she went she would have to make sure that the others carried on looking out for her. "I'll see you later kid."

>

"I don't know why you don't just ask her," Imoen yawned.

"Ask who what?" Jaheira answered. Imoen had found the druid outside in the courtyard searching, while Valygar had gone outside the gate to see if he could track the Soothsayer. The air was light and Imoen could see the stars quite clearly… no sign of there having been a storm a short time ago.

"Aerie… ask her if she wants to be a Harper," the Druid shot a look at her, a look that told Imoen she had been right. "I knew that's what you wanted… you've always pushed her a lot harder than you ever pushed me."

"I push her harder, as you put it, because she needs the extra training. Her physical development has been sadly neglected," Jaheira said, but it wasn't really convincing. Aerie's stamina wasn't great, but Imoen wasn't a whole lot better. And in terms of skill, Aerie was probably ahead of her. "Now, if you do not mind child, I must concentrate and have no time for your fantasies…"

"You really hate it when people figure out the truth about you… I guess because you're used to having to keep your motives secret and don't like being 'found out'. But I've just known you too long Jaheira. Stop me if I'm wrong though, but I think it's like this; obviously I don't know exactly what will happen, soothsayings not my forte, but one way or another the whole Bhaalspawn saga will come to an end, and then what? I mean you're not old yet but you won't be running around saving the world forever. You'll need someone to take over when you're gone. And when it's over Aerie will really have nothing to focus her energies on, but it'll far better if she focuses them on targets that you choose rather than just obliterating every slaver and wrongdoer she comes across, right?"

"Even if any of that were true," Jaheira more or less conceded, "I doubt she would be interested. She clearly does not care for me very much."

"That's not true at all," Imoen told her.

Unfortunately, the relationship between Aerie had Jaheira had got off to a bad start. Aerie had tried several times after they'd first met to establish a genial relationship, but unfortunately it been badly timed. So soon after Khalid's death, revenge had been foremost on Jaheira's mind not making new friends, especially not with someone whose nervous stutter couldn't help but remind her of what she'd lost. Poor Aerie was shot down yet again, and these days the two mostly avoided each other when they weren't training. But Imoen had decided that one of her last acts, maybe, would be to bring her best friend and the woman who had looked after her since the flight from Candlekeep together in friendship. And she knew that if it was Jaheira who offered it then Aerie was bound to accept, after getting over her initial surprise.

"She does respect you," Imoen went on, "she even said once that she wants to be like you. Well, she didn't say it but I read it in her diary. She just doesn't understand why you push her so hard. She thinks there's nothing she can ever do to prove herself to you."

"I just wish she would control her emotions more."

"Maybe, but you don't want her to lose her passion because that's what you're after. It's the one thing the Harper's around here are lacking."

"Perhap's…" Jaheira knelt suddenly and picked something off the ground.

"What? Have you found a clue?"

"Possibly," she answered enigmatically. Imoen scurried closer to take a look. Jaheira held what to the thief's eyes looked to be a bit of dirt, but presumably it wasn't quite like all the other dirt around here. The red head had a suspicion of what would happen next; "You're not going to eat it are you?" The druid looked at her strangely, then promptly placed the mud on her tongue. "That's really disgusting."

"Hmm," Jaheira rolled the dirt around in her mouth then spat it out. "Unusual concentration of iron…"

"Well… maybe one of the villagers who came here was a blacksmith?"

"This is dwarven iron... not typically used for shoeing horses…"

"What does it mean then? And how can you tell what kind of iron it is from the taste?"

"We shall have to ask Nalia and the servants here. They know the land better than we do," Jaheira stood, ignoring the red heads second question. "And Imoen…"

"What?"

"I will think about what you said."

Inside they found that Edwin had also found a clue. Presumably he'd joined in the search after someone, most likely Tarant, had threatened. Anyway, he'd found it in a corner of the hall and frankly Imoen couldn't make any more sense of it than she could of Jaheira's dirt.

"So what is it Eddie?" Tarant asked, "The Soothsayer didn't have a handkerchief?" The group was staring at a rather large glob of green mucus.

"Yes… fortunately I anticipated having to explain what this is to you uneducated barbarians," Edwin looked down his nose, "see, this interesting sample is not the waste product of an infected, but is in fact bona fide, grade A…"

"Ectoplasm…" Aerie finished.

"Yes, quite," the wizard clearly did not appreciate having his thunder stolen but he managed to soldier on.

"Looks like snot to me," Tarant squinted at the object.

"It's ectoplasm!" The wizard insisted, "I mean really, a human couldn't possibly produce this much snot in one blow…"

"I don't know," Imoen thought on it, "one of Nalia's uncles has three noses."

"Hey!" The noblewoman puffed, "Stop saying my family is inbred. It was just a magical experiment gone awry…"

"Anyway," Edwin waved his arms up in an attempt to draw attention back to himself. "It is Ectoplasm… Which, as I'm sure you are all aware, is often a by product from the use of…"

"Psionics…" Aerie said.

"Will you stop interrupting me!" Edwin instinctively raised a hand to strike the girl, before remembering that this wasn't Thay and he couldn't get away with treating people like animals in his present company. "Anyway, yes… it suggests that certain psionic powers were used here."

"Proving what?" Tarant asked.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't really prove anything. Clairvoyance is an oft reported psychic power. But, it tells us what we're up against and suggests a way they could have manipulated the coin without any of us knowing…"

"Telekenesis…" while everyone else restrained Edwin, one of the maids padded across the hallway to Nalia and whispered something into her lady's ear. The Noblewoman coughed.

"It seems," she smiled, "That we've found the chest."

As Nalia led the party through the castle, Jaheira told everyone about her dirt. Nalia suggested that it may come from a forge several miles north, where a Dwarven clan made big, life like, iron statues and sold them to vain human nobles, before abandoning the operation years ago. The statues were so expensive that even Amn's affluent aristocracy could only afford one or two. The profit margin wasn't enough for the Dwarves to stay in business.

Nalia seemed to find everything going on rather exciting… she wore a smile and a certain spring in her step that Imoen hadn't seen before. Imoen supposed it was understandable… she'd always considered politics to be rather dull, and she'd always enjoyed a good mystery. Since it was her life that had been threatened though, she was rather less inclined to see the fun side. Silly really… her life was being threatened all the time when she had to fight monsters of both the animal and the human variety. But, those fights happened so fast… somehow it was far worse when you had time to think about dying.

Still, they seemed to be making some progress now. That was cause for hope at least.

The chest was exactly as the Soothsayer described. Made of ebony and with a golden lock… more likely gold plated, but she supposed that wasn't important right now. It been in one of the cellars, packed away behind centuries old wines. Aside from its obvious age and the care taken with its construction, there was nothing remarkable about it.

"Any idea where it came from?" Tarant knelt in front of it.

"Afraid not," Nalia shrugged, "it's probably been here far longer than myself or any of the staff. And so many of the records were lost in all that business a year ago."

"What now?" Jaheira asked.

"Well… we don't open it, that's for sure," Imoen said. And yet despite everything, she couldn't help but be curious. It was like the classic big red button with 'Don't Push' written above it. You knew something bad would happen, but you just had to push it find out what… she just wished they had some idea of what was in here. Imoen also noted no key had been found for the chest… considering how delicate the lock seemed to be she was probably the only person in these lands who could open it. But, she believed she could resist the urge to do so.

"We should split up," Tarant decided, "Some of us should check out the forge and the rest should stay here. I've… a feeling, that maybe the Soothsayer wanted us to find this, in which case they'll be back. By the way," he stood up stiffly, "you've… all done good work. Well done."

Imoen smiled. Her brother needed to practice his delivery a bit, but at least he'd made an effort. If nothing else, it showed that a part of him still cared a bit about her.

"Now," he composed himself and went on, "I'll go to the forge with Aerie and Valygar."

"Wait!" Jaheira protested.

"What?"

"I am not staying here with Edwin."

"Why not?!"

"Aside from the facts that he is vain, untrustworthy, and only ever looks out for himself?"

"The world cannot afford to lose my fabulous mind," Edwin reminded everybody.

"He can go with you… Aerie can stay here."

"Fine," Tarant gestured to indicate that he was not interested in arguing about it, "Now let's just go…"

As they'd been discussing it they'd been walking out of the cellar… it was only then they heard the door slam shut behind them. Imoen had been so engrossed in studying the chest that she'd been left inside on her own.

Suddenly panicking, she rushed to the heavy door and pushed and pulled, only to find that she was unable to budge it. The door however, could only be locked from the outside. Since she could hear the rest of the party banging on the other side she could only conclude that she hadn't been locked in by accident.

The red head shut her eyes, turned her back to the door and allowed her self to slide down it onto the floor. When her eyes opened, she already knew what she would see.

"Hello Imoen my dear," the pile of rags that contained the Soothsayer said, "It's time."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Soothsayer**

**Part Three **

Imoen sat upon the stone floor, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find something intelligible to say. She realised she must have looked like a fish out of water, but she could feel the Soothsayers eyes drilling into her, even though she couldn't see them under the cowl. She really needed to get a grip soon… if she was going to go then she was going to go with at least one pair of clean underwear. Steeling herself, the red head rose to her feet.

"So… I guess you were watching us the entire time," she said.

"I see many things," the Soothsayer spoke, "you know, what with me being a seer and all."

"Only… you don't see the future at all, do you?" Imoen inched away from the door, slowly moving towards the Soothsayer but staying close to the walls. "You just want whatever's in that box…"

"Oh, you want the exposition before you die… well, yes, I do want what's in the box. Unfortunately, there's a quite nasty trap in there as well. You won't have spotted it… it's actually on the inside waiting to spring out on whoever opens it first, so I also need you. Terribly selfish of me I know, but I just don't want to die… and you're just a tool to ensure that."

"What's in there?"

"Well now… you'll just have to open it to find out, won't you?"

"Right… I hope you don't mind me answering that in sign language," she said as she raised her fist and extended the middle finger.

"What a charming girl," the Soothsayer chuckled. Then, slowly and deliberately, the seer tucked it's staff under it's right arm and reached into it's left sleeve. Imoen's muscles tensed, fearing the Soothsayer was reaching for another weapon, but instead the seer produced a piece of string tied around a coin… of course, it could have still been magical in some way so Imoen decided to keep an eye on it as the Soothsayer held up the string with the coin dangling on the end, which then started to spin…

"You really do want to see what's inside, don't you?" The Soothsayer spoke more softly, but now the voice seemed to echo within Imoen's skull, "Go ahead and satisfy your curiosity… it's a weakness of humans you see, that desire to know everything even when that knowledge might destroy them. But you can't resist it can you? The call of the unknown… oh, and I think you want to drop that knife as well…"

Imoen watched her own arm rise and drop the knife she'd been edging around the room for. And yet the Soothsayer wasn't controlling her… not exactly. It was hard to describe the sensation. She was aware of everything going on, and yet she couldn't not do what the Soothsayer asked… it was suddenly like a very bad dream.

"Open the chest," The Soothsayer commanded.

"With what?" The red head at least seemed to have complete control of mouth anyway. "There's no key and I left my lockpicks in my room. So unless you've got a hairpin under there somewhere I guess the chest is staying shut."

"Oh dear… I hadn't thought of that. If only you had a spare set of picks on you… like in the sole of your boot…"

"Ah… guess I forgot about those…" she immediately removed her own boots. "You know, the others are going to hunt you down and kill you for this."

"Once I have what I've come for I'll have nothing to fear from anyone."

"Don't wanna hurt your pride or anything, but you just wouldn't believe how many people I've heard say that, only to end up playing bowls with the other skulls in hell…"

The Soothsayer didn't respond. In truth they'd both grown pretty tired of the conversation and Imoen was desperately trying to find a way to stop her self. There was just a teeny weeny part of herself that wanted the chest to be opened and to see what was inside, and right now that part was the one sending all the signals to her hands and fingers as they set to work on the lock, and all she could do was watch and count away the seconds she had left. And then it came, that dreadful click as the last part tumbled into place… normally she would punch the air at that point and proclaim 'gotchya', but tonight it was the tolling of a bell. All she had to do now was lift the lid…

"You know, I have only one regret," she sighed, "And that's not telling Edwin what an ass he is before I died. And I never finished reading… anything really. I never had a very long attention span… and that's two regrets isn't it? Well actually there are three… maybe four… can I start again?"

"No more time," The Soothsayer said. As Imoen slowly lifted the lid it seemed 'can I start again' were set to be her last words, making it sound like life was just one big game which she now realised it wasn't.

And then it hit her… not realisation, but a black gas leapt from the chest and enveloped her. She fell on her back as she felt it penetrating into every pore in her body, paralyzing and then slowly spreading. She couldn't cry out, but she felt the most intense pain she had ever experienced as the gas got into each organ.

In the mean time, the Soothsayer glided around the now open chest and took out the one other object it contained, a white sphere which then split open. The light it emitted was absorbed into the shadowy cowl.

"Exactly as was written in the scroll," the Soothsayer chuckled, "The last is first and the first is last… and now at last, immortality…" the light faded and the sphere was dropped, shattering against the stone floor like fine china. But it had served it's purpose.

"I'll be going now then," the Soothsayer looked down on the paralyzed red head. "And then your friends will be able to get back in… regretfully they will find that there is no cure or antidote for the venom. I imagine you'll be dead by dawn. Good luck all the same," and then the Soothsayer vanished.

>

Edwin was about to throw a fireball at the door… an act of desperation they all knew, and there was a high risk of anyone on the other side being caught in the blast. But they had found no other of getting the door open and they had to get to open. Then, just as the wizard started to chant, the door opened of its own accord. No one wasted any time and rushed inside with their weapons drawn… but it was too late.

"She's still alive… b-but just barely," Tarant heard Aerie say. She and Jaheira were knelt beside Imoen running through every healing spell they knew. He watched silently, he's eyes fixed on the motionless form of his sister, every single muscle in his body tensed. He tried to repress it, to fight it, but he could feel it coming and it was growing stronger by the second…

"S-she's infected with something," the Avariel spoke again.

"Poison?" Jaheira asked.

"No… n-not exactly. It's more like a parasite, b-but it's everywhere. We can slow it down…but it's t-too aggressive to stop completely…"

"Nalia! Bring every scroll and healing potion you can!"

"Oh… o-of course," the noblewoman hurried to obey the druid… but the desperate look in Aerie's eyes said it all. All they could do was delay the inevitable. And so he made a decision.

Perhaps he should be there in her last moments, but he couldn't bear it. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, but it did. He had failed her… and now he could feel it rising, screaming in his skull and he was no longer strong enough to silence it. So, while the others tried to prolong Imoen's life a few more minutes, he left. By the time he was riding out of the courtyard through the screaming had become a roar… the son of Bhaal was very angry.

"Where is Tarant?" Nalia asked when she returned with a sack full of every healing item she could find.

"I do not know," Jaheira admitted, apparently only just noticing his absence. But the inclination of her voice made it clear that she was far more concerned with other matters right now.

"I've heard of a creature like this," Edwin said after a brief examination inside the chest, "There is no cure… no way to remove it from her. She's paralysed but she'll be in complete agony… you should just let her die."

"He… he may be right," Aerie sniffed and clenched her fist tightly. It was as if Imoen's pain were her pain also. "A-all we're doing is making her suffer longer…"

"Listen to me child," Jaheira reached out and held the Avariel's shoulders, "Focus on my voice… I know you are upset and angry, but we need you to think! Imoen needs you. There has to be some way to save her!"

"She's done for," Edwin insisted, "Trust me, a very high ranking Red Wizard was once infected by one of these and he died. Now, if the greatest minds in the world could not find a way to beat this thing I would hardly hold out hope that the Little Witch of the Feeding Buckets is going to."

"Ignore the fool," Jaheira hissed. She had no reason to disbelieve Edwin, and most magic was largely a mystery to her. But, she also knew that the young Avariel she travelled with had certain qualities lacking in most wizards. They spent their lives poring over ancient texts in order to become more powerful, but true imagination and innovation seemed very rare. Aerie on the other hand had spent years locked away with nothing but her imagination. One day perhaps, she may equal or even surpass Elminster himself. Aerie had that potential anyway, but she needed to focus.

And she did… she looked up, focusing on the druids eyes as well as her voice. Jaheira could almost see pages of text scrolling behind Aerie's eyes as the Avariel searched for a solution. And then they stopped and the elf's eyes became a little brighter.

"I… I have an idea," she said.

"It won't work… whatever it is," Edwin muttered.

"Another word from you and I will cut out your tongue!" The druid warned.

Aerie knelt down in the middle of the cellar, taking some chalk from her pouch and drawing a large circle around her self. When she had done that she started to write inside the circle. A number of runes, only a few of which Jaheira recognised as being elven. Even Edwin watched, his eyes widening as he slowly put together what Aerie was attempting. Then he characteristically snorted.

"Not bad… but she will never pull it off," he muttered quietly, hoping that Jaheira wouldn't hear.

"I'll need a container," Aerie said, "Any old glass bottle will do, but it needs to be empty."

Fortunately with this being a wine cellar there was no shortage of bottles. Jaheira picked one at random using a dagger to pry out the cork.

"Hang on… that's a very rare vint…" Nalia started but was too late anyway. The bottle was open and Jaheira was pouring the contents onto the floor. "Doesn't matter."

"Such a senseless waste," Edwin shook his head.

"Place Imoen in the centre of the circle, and stand the bottle next to her," Aerie finished her writing.

When everything was moved into place, the Avariel bowed her head and closed her. The elf's arms moved outwards and upwards in a slow circular motion as she began to chant the words to a spell she'd invented a few moments ago. The circle began to glow as Aerie channelled more and more power into it, until at last it exploded in a flash of light. Everyone held their breath, until at last, Imoen, with a grin on her face, opened her eyes looked at the Avariel and said:

"Meow?"

"I don't understand," Nalia said, "Why did you turn her into cat?"

"The parasite had invaded every part of her body," Edwin stepped in immediately to explain everything, "Reordering all of her matter was the only way to possibly separate the two… still, it was a stroke of pure luck that it worked."

"I do not think it was luck," Jaheira bowed her head to the Avariel respectfully, who answered in kind. She then picked up the bottle. The gaseous parasite, whatever it was, was in there held back by a magical barrier. The druid decided to put the cork back in anyway, just in case.

"I'm so sorry," Aerie said to Imoen who was glaring at her, angrily twitching her whiskers. "I-it was just the first thing I thought of…" Cat Imoen glanced around at her self, and then started to run away from her own tail. "I really am sorry…"

"I thought of that as well of course," Edwin crossed his arms and sulked, "but really, it was a million to one chance. She was far more likely to end up a steaming pink blob…"

"Sir," Aerie smiled amiably, "It's just… I-I require your help, sir…"

"Really? Well, naturally you do, but… what for?"

"Well… t-there wasn't much time and… transformations are very easy, really. I just… I'm not sure how to turn her back…"

The cat hissed and pounced on Aerie.

>

Several hours had passed, as the Soothsayer awoke to a new and everlasting life. It had been a busy night, so after teleporting back to the lair the Soothsayer went to the bathroom (seat up, in case anyone still cared) and then laid down for a few hours sleep.

Imoen was probably dead by now, he mused to himself. It was a shame really… nice girl and not altogether unattractive either. But, all things end eventually… well, most things. Anyway, life was all about survival of the fittest. He had always been the cleverest and best so why should he ever have to die? Well, now he didn't. No weapon could ever harm him, he was never going to grow old and he would never die. He had earnt this, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it.

He yawned and sat up. He had taken down the hood and wiped the sweat off his bald head… strange, it was getting very hot in here… and something stranger he noticed… someone had gone through his sack, reading through all his research. They hadn't even bothered to place the parchments back where they were…

The Soothsayer leapt to his feet and ran from the small cave that served as his quarters into the main cavern. Whoever was in here, they had also fired up the furnace a little while ago. Already a large quantity of the dwarven iron – mithril – had been reduced to a liquid state.

The Soothsayer's first instinct was to enter the room with caution… but then, even if they had tracked him down here, what could they do? He was immortal damnit!

"Who's there?!" He called out boldly. No answer… other than the furnace being active there was no sign of anyone else in the cavern. They had to be there though, lurking in the shadows like the miscreants they were. "Fools…"

And then someone ran into the Soothsayer, delivering a blow which lifted him off his feet crashing back down several feet away. The coin and his other items of power came free from his rag robes and clattered to the ground around. The Soothsayer reached out for one of them, only for a leather boot to come crashing down on his fingers grinding the bones. The assailant took little time to relish the Soothsayer's cries of agony… they almost immediately took hold of his robes and flung him again across the room.

The Soothsayer just had time to get his feet when his attacker had traversed the distance between them, drawn his sword and immediately plunged it through the Soothsayers heart. He gasped… and then he started to laugh.

"Save your anger, Tarant. You're just wasting your energy," he said as he pulled the sword back out and flung it aside. The gap where it had entered his chest immediately closed. Even his hand was back to being as good as knew. "You cannot kill me… not now."

"No," the half elf glared at him, his eyes more intense than the heat of the furnace, "But, you will wish for death. It would have been merciful."

"Grieving the loss of your dear little sister are you? I always knew the whole bad boy attitude was just a front. Tell me, what exactly is it you think you can do to me?"

"You mean, you can't see?" Tarant grinned wickedly. His hand snapped out and clasped the Soothsayers throat, then he started to drag the bald man across the cavern, finally swinging the Soothsayer around and dumping him an open metal casket.

"You told people you could see the future," Tarant explained, "And now you will. You'll get to see everything happen… but, you'll never be able to act, never even be able to speak to anyone."

The Soothsayer looked up and noticed the semi-circular gap at the top of the casket, with a corresponding one on the side that was open… and then he began to understand…

"N-no wait… please, I beg you!" But the Soothsayer's pleas fell on deaf ears. Tarant's eyes as he sealed the casket shut… those were no longer the eyes of a man, but those of a vengeful god.

Tarant walked away to a set of levers and dials. He found a wheel and started to turn it. As he did so, a massive cauldron started to tip slightly and then to pour the liquid metal into the casket. He stood there and listened to the Soothsayers final, gurgling screams…

This was what he was. He was never meant to live a normal life as man. He was chaos and destruction and death. And Imoen and Aerie and the others… he wasn't afraid of what others might do to them because of who he was, but of what he might do to them or because of them.

>

The sun had risen, although no one had seen it rising. Mist covered the keep and the surrounding land for miles when Tarant's horse trotted back into the courtyard. The guards immediately summoned the others when they'd heard him approach and they were all there waiting for him. All of them, including Imoen…

"I'm okay!" The red head beamed and gave a little twirl. "I mean, I do have a craving for fish, and one of Nalia's dogs chased me up a wall, but apart from that I'm all cured and back to normal."

"All thanks to me I might add," Edwin said, "Not that my contributions ever seem to be noticed around here…"

"Aren't you happy?"

Tarant stared down at the warm face of his sister, who was grinning inanely as usual. Change was a part of living he'd said… but he supposed he just wasn't ready for some things to change.

"Happy?" He said as he dismounted, "Not really… I was looking forward to some quiet."

"Awww… you were missing me already," The red head insisted.

"I miss having the measles more than I would ever miss you."

"That hurts," Immy sighed, "But, since I know you don't really mean it, how about a hug?"

"You just escaped death, and already you're inviting it back?"

Imoen decided to answer with a sign, putting her thumb under nose, wriggling her fingers and then sticking her tongue out.

"What about the Soothsayer?" Jaheira asked.

"The Soothsayer?" Tarant said. "Well, he got everything he had earnt."

>

A ten day later, and Nalia was in the keep by herself. Well, all the staff were still there, but Tarant and the party had all left to continue their adventures. She was sorry to see them go really… things were certainly never boring when they were around. And now she had to return to balancing finances, signing documents and overseeing all the day to day goings on in her lands…

Imoen and Aerie had asked if she would like to go with them, at least for a little while. But, she had too many responsibilities now. She couldn't go gallivanting all over the place anymore… besides, exciting though it was, she had found she was far better suited to managing things from here.

That morning it was reported to her that several travellers had spotted a statue left by the side of the road north of the castle, and that afternoon she decided to go take a look at it.

It turned out not to be the dwarves best work really… rather rough around the edges. And yet the pose of a man kneeling and screaming, fists raised in desperation, was incredibly lifelike.

And the eyes as well… somehow they seemed to always be watching.


End file.
